


With Our Eyes Wide Open

by static_abyss



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Implied Relationships, implied Enjolras/Grantaire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/static_abyss/pseuds/static_abyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nowadays, Combeferre is her favorite because he helps her study, but he accepts things in exchange. They're even in terms of how much they owe each other, because Combeferre is smart enough to comprehend even if he doesn't <em>know</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Our Eyes Wide Open

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RampantAnnarchy (combustspontaneously)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/combustspontaneously/gifts).



> Happy Holidays to RampantAnarchy! I wish you the best.

There are three things Éponine keeps close to heart. 

One, on quiet nights, she misses the girl she was early in life. She misses the little Éponine who wore beautiful dresses, and who lived in a small house with her parents. Éponine wants that little girl with the pretty face who felt as though everyone loved her, the little girl who didn't know how to doubt that people cared about her. 

Two, Éponine is fiercely proud of the woman she has become. Poverty and her parents destroyed the little girl Éponine had been, but she is still alive. She kept Gavroche alive when no one would spare them a second glance. What was left of her family pulled itself out of the mess, and it was so painful, one of the most painful things Éponine has ever done. But they are here now. Gavroche is in school, for the most part, and Éponine is in college. Whatever pain there was in Éponine's past is gone, and even the scars that remain are manageable.

Three, she is not in love with Marius. Not really. She's in love with an idea. She loves that Marius reminds her of the carefree girl she could have been, of the things she missed because she was too busy trying to separate herself and Gavroche from the mess their family had become. Marius is Éponine's prince in the life she could have had, and sometimes, Éponine likes to get carried away by that. But she knows that Marius is just an idea and that she'd never be cruel enough to make him love her when she can never really love him.

She keeps other things close too, because the world has been cruel to her, but Éponine tries not to be. She will never be as sweet or as innocent as Cosette, and that is why Éponine is protective of her, because no one should be allowed to destroy innocence. She can't be angry that Marius chose Cosette because Cosette and Marius, naive as he may be, can protect each other. 

Éponine envies them, but that will pass. She keeps it a secret, just as she keeps it a secret that she feels at sea even in her group of friends.

Éponine is an outcast. She has always either been below or _at_ the poverty line. At her darkest times, she's had to steal to feed her brother. She's never told anyone, but sometimes Combeferre will look at her a certain way, and Éponine will be sure that he knows everything. And that's the one thing she can't accept. If they knew, she'd have to leave them and she doesn't want to.

She loves them all, from Joly's exaggerations to Jehan's sad poetry to Combeferre's intelligence to Enjolras's annoying habit of being inspirational. She loves Courfeyrac because he amuses her, because he feels things so strongly. Grantaire she loves because he was as messed up as her. 

Éponine and Grantaire loved people who would never look twice at them, people who tolerated them only because they were polite. So Éponine got along with Grantaire because Enjolras hated him and because Eponone didn't have to say anything ever. Grantaire just understood. But now Grantaire sits next to Enjolras at parties. Now Grantaire gets to kiss Enjolras, gets to hold his hand, and roll his eyes, and tease him, and love him. 

Éponine envies them too.

She envies them all for things they cannot help. She keeps this close. She doesn't want to forget that envy is never a good thing. 

Even so, Éponine would do anything for her friends, for the people who have accepted her, but that doesn't excuse the fact that they don't know what it's like to come from nothing.

They'll complain about being broke college students but have parents willing to give them money if they need it. They were always going to dorm at college, but Éponine only got her single because, by some miracle, someone pulled her name out of a hat and then her roommate dropped out. They can drop out but Éponine won't ever let herself think that even when she gets C's, because it took too much work to even get the chance to study.

They're all nice people, the kind that didn't blink twice when Éponine dropped the word "bisexual." No one ever thinks twice about getting her an expensive present that she'll never be able to repay. And it adds up in the tab she's kept in the back of her head since her parents left. She knows how much she owes each one of them and her favorite changes depending on who she owes less to that week.

For a very long time, Marius was her favorite. He had gone to college without the help of his parents' money and Éponine had found that charming, back when she still carried bits of the naive girl she'd once been. She'd had him over often, in their freshman year, sharing what little she had with him. Éponine doesn't regret it. She's fond of the memories she has of Marius, of the foolish girl who believed she could have her happy ending with him.

Nowadays, Combeferre is her favorite because he helps her study, but he accepts things in exchange. They're even in terms of how much they owe each other, because Combeferre is smart enough comprehend even if he doesn't _know_. 

Combeferre is a patient teacher because he values knowledge and education. Éponine is an excellent student for the same reason. She is in college with them, but she didn't come from private schools or well-connected public schools. There are things that Éponine never learned simply because she lived in a poor neighborhood and there was no money to teach the students. She doesn't always do well in her classes because, even though she is a good student, she's behind everyone else. She has to learn twice as much as they do just to understand a lesson, and Combeferre gets that. 

Éponine is learning a lot with Combeferre, but Combeferre is also learning things from Éponine. They trade, so neither feels like they're giving more than the other. And it's good, because Éponine knows Combeferre wants to just teach her for free, but he doesn't ask, doesn't press, because he gets it. 

It's been a while since anyone's really just _gotten_ Éponine.

-

It's well past midnight on a Saturday morning and Éponine is awake with her thoughts. Sleepless nights don't happen too often anymore, but sometimes she gets carried away just thinking. Tonight, she's thinking of Combeferre, of the way his hand felt on hers when he reached over to stop her mid math formula. She's thinking of the way his fingers lingered on the back of her hand, the way he refused to look at her even though Éponine wanted him to.

Love is a dangerous word, but Éponine has always been too free with her affections. She recognizes the signs, thinks maybe Combeferre does to and that's why he wouldn't look at her. She thinks this time is different though, because Éponine likes to love people, but it takes her longer to like them.

She likes Combeferre.

-

Saturday night, at around ten o'clock someone knocks on Éponine's door. She's halfway dressed for bed, still in her jeans but with a large black t-shirt. She walks barefoot to the door and pulls it open.

"Hello," Combeferre says. 

He's standing in front of her dorm room wearing flannel pajamas, a matching pant and shirt set. His brown hair looks as though Combeferre's run his fingers through too many times, and his eyes are slightly panicked behind his glasses.

"Enjolras and Grantaire are in my room," he says.

"Okay," Éponine says, pretending as though she doesn't know what he means.

She likes the way Combeferre's face goes a little red, but he looks back at her with unimpressed eyes. 

"You're going to make me says it," he says. 

Éponine shrugs. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"They're having sex," he says, tone flat. "In my dorm. Can I stay?"

Éponine checks her nails. "It's Enjolras's dorm room too," she says, glancing at Combeferre.

He's watching her fingers and Éponine knows better than to think he's reciting poetry in his head. It's more likely that he's noticed something is wrong and is trying to figure out the best way to tell her. 

"Don't stare so hard," she says, letting her amusement color her tone. 

Combeferre glances at her and keeps her gaze when their eyes meet. Éponine can feel the small smile on her face and she sees it a second later mirrored on Combeferre's face. 

"Come in," she says, moving only enough for Combeferre to squeeze through.

His hand brushes against her right side, and Éponine knows she doesn't imagine the way his fingers brush the back of her hand. There's a second of excitement, her heart beating loudly in her chest, the air too thick to get to her lungs. It's exhilarating. 

"Is your roommate really gone?" Combeferre asks.

Éponine turns around and sees him sitting on the bed opposite hers. There are no sheets, just the dark blue, extra-long, twin mattress that all of the students use. 

"Yeah," Éponine says. "She dropped out so I get the room for myself this semester."

"You could get it for the year, if you're lucky," Combeferre says. "Not many people transfer in the spring."

"If I'm lucky," Éponine echoes.

She thinks the bitterness comes from all the thinking she's been doing lately, all the nights where she just stares at her ceiling and tries to will away the thoughts. Éponine has always been a fighter, and she doesn't let things bring her down. She's never had the luxury of falling apart, but it gets close sometimes. 

She's not lucky, and she thinks Combeferre should know that. Éponine is just some rich person's charity case, and though that's an easier thing to be when she doesn't know the person, it doesn't change the fact that it's still charity. She would rather share her room with three other people than owe anyone else. But she doesn't get that dignity, so she settles for other forms of it. 

"I've never been lucky," she whispers. "I work for my things."

Combeferre knows her well enough to keep quiet. Éponine feels his eyes on her as she climbs onto her bed. She sits opposite of him, with her knees tucked close to her chest, her arms wrapped around the front of her legs, her chin on top of her knees. From here, she can see Combeferre head on, his legs dangling over the edge. He looks down at his hand, and Éponine watches him.

"Sorry for intruding," he says.

"It's not like you wanted to," Éponine tells him, glad for the change of subject. "It's Enjolras's fault you're here."

"And Grantaire's," Combeferre says.

The expression on his face is somewhere between impressed and disgusted.

"You walked in on them, didn't you?" Éponine asks. 

"I was in the bathroom for five minutes," he says. 

"They work that fast, huh?"

Combeferre nods and Éponine gives him her best pitying expression from the top of her knees. 

"If it helps, you're safe now," she tells him. "But you owe me another math lesson for this."

"Half a lesson," he says.

Éponine grins. "Two," she says.

Combeferre shakes his head. "One and a half. There are no pillows on this bed."

Éponine lets go of her legs and reaches over for her pillow. It's mostly flat, but she just washed the sheet yesterday, so she's fine with tossing it over to Combeferre. She aims for his head and he catches it. 

"Two," she says.

Combeferre smiles at her, the same smile that wrinkles the corner of his brown eyes. Éponine likes the shape of his nose and the gentle way he sets her pillow down on the bed next to him. He straightens it out on the side farthest from the door.

"Two," he says, as he lies down.

She would fight him on that, but it's easy to accept things from Combeferre. It always has been, because he never makes Éponine feel as though she's losing or giving in to him. 

"Close your eyes," she says, after a moment, stretching out her legs. 

She watches as Combeferre closes his eyes. He doesn't ask why and it warms something in the middle of Éponine's chest to see him lying across from her. She keeps her eyes on him as she changes into her shorts, not because she doesn't trust him, but because she wants to memorize what he looks like in her room.

She waits until she's under her comforter, the stuffed bear that Gavroche gave her tucked under her head, before she lets Combeferre know it's safe for him to open his eyes. 

He does so slowly, almost sleepily. "You're right," he says, voice so low Éponine has to strain to hear him. "You're not lucky. It's me. I am."

"You think?" Éponine whispers back.

"You let me know you," he answers.

"That's not luck," Éponine says, her gaze fixed on Combeferre's serious eyes. 

"No," Combeferre says. "I suppose it's not."

They stare at each other, and Éponine finds herself wanting to know what it would feel like to wake next to Combeferre. She doesn't want anything else right now, just to have him next to her, his body a solid reminder that good things do come after the bad parts in life. 

"You should come over here," she says, lifting the covers on her bed.

Combeferre looks at her, his glasses are still on so Éponine knows he can see her. There is a long moment of silence but Éponine doesn't take it as a rejection. She would know if it was, because Combeferre is always clear with her. 

He opens his mouth once, but Éponine cuts him off before he can say anything. 

"Only if you're sure," she tells him.

Combeferre nods, expression so fond Éponine wishes she could get it on camera. It sends a thrill up her spine that's comforting instead of terrifying, and Éponine shakes her comforter a little. Combeferre smiles as he stands, setting his glasses down on the bed, and bringing Éponine's pillow with him.

He's warm under Éponine's covers, their hands barely touching even in the small bed. They take their time looking at each other, Combeferre going a little cross-eyed as he squints. They don't do anything except hold hands, but they both sleep well that night, anyway.


End file.
